The Lengths I Will Go
by Yaraslava Rada
Summary: Wilson tells House the real reason why he's leaving PPTH. House will do anything to keep his friend with him.
1. Part One

House looks shocked when Wilson reveals the real reason for leaving PPTH. It's then he realizes he needs Wilson. Even with the realization that Wilson doesn't like what House has made of him, he doesn't say directly he doesn't like House. Which means that he does like House, just not how House acts with Wilson.

"I'll change." He whispers as Wilson grabs his boxes.

"House, you're not going to change my mind."

"I'll stop taking Vicoden. I'll go to rehab, for real. I'll do my Clinic Hours. I'll even quit being a jackass to everyone." He says listing all the things Wilson's complained about in the past. He doesn't notice his shocked team and Cuddy standing in the doorway. They don't matter. Nothing does if his only friend leaves. "Anything." He whispers almost hoping Wilson doesn't hear.

"House..."

"You can't leave, Wilson. You're my only friend." He says looking at the floor. His father's voice yells at him for admitting his weakness, he can feel the sting of an imaginary slap and winces.

Wilson looks House over. He can't detect his normal sarcasm, or a lie. But he couldn't be telling the truth. House would never change, not even for him. But the thought was too tempting.

"Are you serious?" House looks up into his eyes wondering what he got himself into. Probably saved himself a couple hundred thousand for hiring a PI...but anything was worth keeping Wilson here.

"Yes." Wilson sighs and House is temped to smile.

"Fine. I'll stay. But if you don't start fulfilling your promise in two weeks then I really am leaving. No trying to get me to change my mind." He says with a frown.

"Of course." House says turning to the door, only now consciously noticing their presence. House frowns but doesn't say anything.

The next day House signs up for rehab. He doesn't take any Vicoden and gets his Clinic Hours done, he even does extra. He doesn't insult anyone out loud, not even his team.

Wilson's surprised. He should've threatened to leave years ago if this was how House responded. 'But then again we don't know how long this is going to last.' he thinks to himself.

Cuddy's shocked at how well behaved House is being. He doesn't try outlandish cures on patients waiting until he's 99 percent positive before administering treatment. He doesn't sit in his office, or an empty clinic room playing his PSP or watching cable. He even gets to work on time. It's a dream come true for her.

It takes to the end of two weeks for his current and former team to realize House isn't happy. Cuddy is too busy being surprised at this obedient House to notice. Wilson doesn't even have a clue.

House walks up to the steps to his apartment pausing to get the mail. Once he closes the door behind him he drops the letters and slumps against the door. "No one believes this pain is real. Not Cuddy, or Wilson, or Cameron even. So it must be mental." He whispers to himself. He slides down letting the tears fall from his face. He clutches desperately at his leg rubbing, trying to ease the pain but it only lessens slightly, all the while mumbling about being mental. A very still hour later the pain dulls and he limps his way to his room to get clothes for a shower. Once done, he doesn't even eat before falling into a pain filled slumber.

Wilson realizes House's changes may not all be good. He spends less and less time with House. Sure they go to lunch and House buys his own lunch, but they don't sit down after work to eat Chinese and drink beer while watching cheesy horror movies and chatting like the buddies they are.

"Wanna hang out tonight House?" He asks one lunch.

"I have rehab tonight," House replies with a barely noticeable flinch.

"Oh, ok." He says before they slip into an awkward silence.

It's later that day on his way out that Cuddy notices something is off with her Diagnostician. She shrugs it off as rehab and leaves it at that.

House's team, Chase and Cameron get together once House leaves for the day.

"I'm not the only one who's noticed am I?" Thirteen asks with a frown.

"Noticed what?" Kutner asks.

"House's miserable." Chase says for her.

"No you're not the only one." Forman says.

"What are we going to do about it?" Cameron asks.

"What do you mean 'what are we going to do about it'?" Taub says. "Why should we help if he doesn't want it?"

"How do you know he doesn't want help?" Cameron asks.

"He'd have said something." Taub says with a spidery smile as he sits down and grabs the paper.

"No he wouldn't have. He would be doing just like he is. This is all because Wilson threatened to leave. Him and Cuddy both haven't noticed but we have. We should do something, like tell them how miserable he is." Chase says his brow furrowed.

"And what would that accomplish? They'll either confront him, to which he'll deflect. Or they won't do anything." Forman says frowning.

A month passes and House's mental state only declines. He doesn't hang out with Wilson, at all. He doesn't have the strength to bother Wilson, let alone get up and hop the brick wall between balconies. His team brings him lunch and the walk to and from the Clinic is hell. He catches his team sharing worried looks when they think he isn't looking but he no longer has the strength to even mess with their heads. He sits whenever possible only getting up and walking if its absolutely necessary. His face is always blank to keep the pain from showing, and even music can't bring emotion to his eyes.

His leg throbs in time with his heartbeat, sharp angry stabs of pain asking why he's still putting up with this treatment. He constantly has to remind himself that it's all mental and Wilson will leave if he even shows signs of relapsing. It's hardly worth it anymore.

One day Cuddy is in the Clinic with House. She tries to banter with House but he deflects all possible openings for a rude come back or a comment on her state of dress. When he mentions they've been talking for fifteen minuets and he needs to get back to work she's shocked. She watches him hobble away calling the next patient to the exam room.

The last patient House has to deal with today (the end of two extra hours of Clinic Duty) is a woman and her little boy. 'Easy' he thinks. He reassures the lady that her Son only has the Cold and simple over-the-counter medicine would fix him right up in a few days. The boy, a rotten spoiled thing kicked him in the leg. His bad leg. Right over his scar. He bites his lip as the pen in his hand drags across the paper and tears well in his eyes. The woman apologizes profusely before telling her little son of a bit-Son, just Son that he won't be getting his ice cream later. He finishes writing the prescription painfully before standing and opening the door for them to leave. He limps after them placing the file on the counter telling the nurse he's done for the day and to sign him out. He painfully limps to the stairwell, wondering why the little demon brat's kick hurt so much before remembering he's off the pain meds and his leg constantly hits at least a 8 on the pain scale.

Lisa follows House and is surprised again when he goes into the stairwell. She smiles wondering if he can finally walk up and down the stairs again and catches the door before it closes. She peaks in and is shocked to find her Diagnostician sitting on the first step to the lower floor crying. She watches him lean against the wall sobbing clutching his leg face screwed up with pain. The smile slides off her face as her arms fall to her sides letting the door shut with a quiet click. She stands looking at the painted 1 mocking her, saying 'I've known longer then you have!' Abruptly she turns making her way to the elevator.


	2. Part Two

House's team looks up when the door opens all three looking worse for wear. "How long?" She asks dreading the answer. They all immediately know what she's talking about.

"We noticed two weeks after the deal." Thirteen says.

"A whole month..." she whispers to herself in shame. "And you didn't think to bring this to me or Wilson?" She questions angrily.

"And what would you've done? You would've either ignored it or confronted him about it, neither of which would make any difference!" She yells back.

"No! I would've..." She trails off realizing they're right, as Wilson comes into the room. House's team glares at him.

"What'd House do now?" He asks with a raised brow. Cuddy turns her angry eyes on him.

"It's not what House did!" Thirteen and Kutner say with matching frowns.

"You know where I found House a minuet ago?" Cuddy yells drowning out their voices.

"Where? Molesting a patient? Watching cable in a coma man's room? Skiving off Clinic Duty?" He questions stepping fully into the room. He takes a step back when Cuddy growls.

"No. I found House sobbing in the stairwell clutching his leg."

"House doesn't cry." Wilson says brushing it off. "You must've been mistaken." He says even while thinking of how much House avoided him, how they never hung out, how they didn't even eat lunch together anymore, and how emotionless House seemed recently.

"I saw him walk into the stairwell, I saw his face screwed over with pain! It's all your fault! Now that I think about it House's miserable! Has been since you threatened to leave!" She shrieks.

"I didn't do anything!" Wilson whispers in denial. Everyone glares at him. "I didn't do anything!" He says firmly before storming out of the room.

For some reason, Wilson finds himself in the stairwell closest to the Clinic. It's not to see for himself if House is sobbing his eyes out. Really he knows Cuddy was lying. He was only there because the elevator was full. Besides House would've told him if something was wrong. 'Unless you were the cause of it' his conscience whispers to him. He freezes when he hears muffled crying. It's been at least fifteen minuets since Cuddy claimed to have seen House there. It could be somebody else, anybody else. He peaks over the railing, only one floor above Hous-the crying person. The hair, those clothes...It was House. Clutching at his leg his face streaked with tears. He turns around and flees up the stairs.

When House returns a half hour later, no one says anything. Cuddy is sitting at the table looking out over the view while his team does what it normally does.

"Do we have a case?" He asks looking at Cuddy.

"No..." Cuddy says softly. House looks at her strangely before shrugging it's none of his business if she wants to sit in his conference room. He sits in his chair props his leg up subconsciously while his team and Cuddy watch him from the corner of their eyes. He grabs his headphones and slips them on hitting play on his iPod while shifting through his mail. His hand rests on his leg gently rubbing it trying, in vain, to relieve some of the pain. He winces, which doesn't go unnoticed, but continues on with his work.

A few winces, grumbles, and sighs of pain later Cuddy gets up.

"Are you in pain House?" She asks noticing him staring into space only looking like he was doing work.

"Hmm?" He asks when she lays a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at her his face and eyes blank as he pulls the headphones from his ears.

"Do you hurt?" She asks frowning.

"No. It's all psychological. Remember?" He says in a dead voice referring to the Placebo incident. She winces.

"House..."

"No. You and Wilson have been saying it for years, It's my guilt coming out in a physical form." He says standing up to prove their point. He cringes at the pain and Cuddy's eyes tear up. "Well, it's time for me to leave." He says moving around her.

"House! It wasn't really a Placebo!" She says her tears falling over.

"Sure it was. You said so yourself."

"Well, now I'm saying otherwise. Please don't suffer alone!"

"It's all mental." He says turning to look at her. "Really, Wilson was right, I was an addict. I'd do anything to get Vicoden. Now I'm dealing with my disorder. It's fine." He says and she sees he really believes it.

He grabs his coat and helmet before limping his way down the hallway.

Cuddy collapses in his chair tears falling fast and furiously down her face. She rests her head in her hands and sobs. Thirteen comes over and hugs her tears falling from her own eyes.

"What have we done?" She asks knowing that it was Wilson's and her fault House wouldn't take medicine now. He truly believed the pain he felt was mental, all because they had insisted it was.

Wilson stood on the balcony, the door halfway open, tears falling from his own eyes. He realized then he wanted his friend back, not this emotionless husk of a friend he, himself, had created.

House sat on his couch hours later wondering if his pain was real. "Of course it's not real." He whispers remembering years of Cuddy and Wilson thinking him an addict and thinking the pain was all mental. Only Cuddy thinking it was real wasn't enough to convince him he wasn't crazy. She just saw him succumbing to his mental pain and decided to take pity on him, to get him back on the pills he worked so hard to get off of. It took him years to realize he was crazy, five minutes isn't going to change his view.

By this time he doesn't even notice the tears of pain running down his cheeks. He stands with a cringe and goes to the fridge getting some leftover Chinese food from last night and a nice cold root beer (He had vowed off all alcoholic drinks after Amber).

He only notices the tears because they add a saltier taste to his Chinese food. He quickly scrubs at his eyes, using all the lessons his father taught him to keep himself from curling up on the floor and crying, or chopping his leg off. The pain wasn't real, he knew that. But it felt so real, the throbbing and stabbing, good god it HURT. But there was nothing he could do, he was crazy, guilty and a terrible person; his subconscious was making him pay for all the mistakes he made throughout his life. It was the price to pay for being a misanthropic, pill popping bastard who hardly gave a damn whether his patients lived or died.

After zoning out for a few hours (really his mind was doing anything to block out the pain, just like when he was a child...) he decided it was time for bed. But did it truly make sense for his brain to block off pain that it created itself? Oh the wonders of the human mind...

By one in the morning Wilson realized he wouldn't be getting any sleep. He got up, ate some leftovers, took a quick shower, and decided that he was going to head over to House's place. He had to convince his friend that he was wrong. House obviously was really in pain. And since that was the problem, taking Vicoden was the only solution.

A stab of pain woke House in the wee hours of the morning. He groaned in pain as his vision went white. He forced himself up and made his way into the bathroom. The water poured warm from the tap as House slowly lowered himself into the bath. He let himself relax, and massaged his leg, trying to relieve the tension. He didn't notice when the water began pouring over the side of the tub, or when he fell asleep. Just after two, his head sunk under the water.

END


End file.
